The Things I do for People I Hate
by sierra muffin
Summary: All hell breaks loose when Draco kills Lucius and Harry goes blonde. Now to save the world from a savagely schizophrenic Harry, Hermy and Draco have to team up with a gay hitman, a psychotic Narcissa....and Voldemort?? d/hr-- r/r please!!! : )
1. Horror beyond Death

It always seems like there's a battle of the blondes....  
  
Chapter One--Horror Beyond Death ; )  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters, setting, etc. Duh.  
  
A/N: AAH I LOVE DRACO!! HE'S ME HUBBY!! yep...ok so enjoy, and please please review!! i lob them and eat them and they make me very happy and full. naw just playin ; )  
  
***  
  
The moon shined softly through the window, casting a glow on the bleak ivory floor. The silk curtains danced slowly in the night's breeze, the sweet smell of fresh air drowning out the foul oder of blood. Draco looked down upon the body resting so peacefully on the floor, the dead man's hate leaking out of him as he bled.  
  
Draco retched and turned from the sight, and made motion was to leave when he heard a slight shuffle of footsteps. They were coming from the hallway. Draco stopped breathing for a second, narrowed his eyes and strained his ears--the familiarity of the sound hitting him like little daggers, and there was a soft groan as the door opened slowly. His mother walked steadily into the room, her eyes wandering from Draco, now heaving and coughing, to his father, bloodied and dead. Silently her eyes strayed to the curtains.  
  
Her features melted from uncertainty to anger as she let out a small gasp.  
  
"Draco," she said mournfully, "how many times did I tell you to make it a clean job?"  
  
Draco stared at her mutely.  
  
"The curtains, son, the curtains," she said in disgust, "His blood is all over them!"  
  
"Right. The curtains," Draco retorted. Unable to take his mother's idiocy any longer, he turned on his heel and left.  
  
***  
  
"Yellow," was all she managed to gasp out.  
  
"Can it, Hermione," Ron yelped, eyes bulging, jaw dropped.  
  
Harry didn't say anything. He looked sullenly out the window to hide his madly blushing face. He knew he had been stupid to try and give himself highlights. Especially considering the fact he had attempted this change with magic. Not only could he have been expelled--which he hadn't been, thank God, but he could have made a mistake--which he did. Harry found himself unable to rid himself of this cursed yellow mass, and appearently, the new look wasn't favored among his admirers.  
  
"Harry, I can understand you were tired of black hair, but why on earth yellow?!"  
  
"It's blonde," he muttered grumpily. Hermione shook her head.  
  
"Blonde is used to describe people like Draco Malfoy," she began, (at this, Harry's head shot up,)--"though his is more silvery and way more attractive--" (at this, Ron almost slapped her,) "but Harry, what you've got is yellow either way you look at it."  
  
"Malfoy!" Harry growled, looming over her angrily.  
  
"Attractive!" Ron burst, joining Harry.  
  
"Someone rang?" Malfoy said, pulling open the door and walking into the compartment. He looked around the room, inspecting Hermione--quite pretty, too bad she was in Gryffindor, Ron--idiot scum of a Weasly, still with that blinding hair and those damn freckles (why do girl find them so cute?) then to Harry--  
  
"HOLY SHIT POTTER YOUR HAIR!" Draco cried, falling against the compartment door, wide-eyed and flabberghasted. Hermione and Ron chuckled as Harry glared at Malfoy.  
  
"What, Malfoy, scared of a little hair?" Hermione said, giggling wildly at Malfoy's shocked expression. Draco quickly regained his composure--one of the hardest things he'd had to do in his life--the Muggle- lover looked like a banana.  
  
"No Granger, I'm morally disgusted with it," Draco answered quite truthefully, still eyeing Potter's hair distastefully. "I know you hate me, Potter, so why the hell are you so intent on copying my styles?"  
  
"The fact that he's copying your styles is what makes it look so bad, Malfoy!" Ron sputtered.  
  
"I'm not copying his style!" Harry nearly screamed.  
  
"Whatever, Potter," Malfoy said, smirking. This was just too good. Leaving the compartment with the threesome still in an uproar, Draco made his way from compartment to compartment, intent on spreading the word.  
  
***  
  
A/N: ok whazzevah. if u want more r/r!! will be d/hr later on but it may take a while. 


	2. Short Events and Strange Afterthought

Chapter Two--Short Events and Strange Afterthought  
  
A/N: Oook, a little darker. Plain out weird. Not funny, more shitty than anything. Oh yeah. There's swearing. That doesnt ask for an R rating does it? If it does, tell and I'll change it...by the way, not much Draco/Hermione yet...we get to that later on...I mean, you really can't rush things with them!  
  
***  
  
The funeral was short and to the point. Many of the wizards there were quite important--not to mention, in disguise. Not much time could be wasted on such unimportant matters as that of her husband's death. Not to mention, the Priest was being paid by the hour, and timely funerals were just so expensive these days. Narcissa had found a small spell used for conjuring artificial tears--those that somehow kept her mascara from running. Such small things were quite important to the woman, for besides her looks, what else did she have? Well, there was money...oh, and a murderer for a son.... Speaking of Draco.... Narcissa cast a small glance at her son. He was standing by his father's coffin, staring blankly at the twisted, morbid figure lying forever more withen. In his eyes, she could he was trying to hide the dark storm forming inside...He trying to keep the rain inside his head...he wouldn't let it run down his cheeks...for a moment, lightening flashed in those eyes as they rested on her. She quickly masked her concern and glared down at the boy. "This was your doing, boy. Don't even think about regretting your actions now. Malfoys--" "Shut up, bitch," he seethed, and returned his gaze to the coffin. She would beat him for that later. For now, however, she needed to play the role of a concerned mother. She couldn't have her peers seeing her in such a state as to which she would actually strike her son. For the moment, however, she halted her thinking and listened to the Priest say his bit about Lucius. Let's see how accurate this man is...or, better yet, how well he can act.... "--always cared about everyone. He was kind, generous--" A few snorts erupted from the audience. The Priest looked nervously about, then continued. "Always tried whatever he could to make someone feel at home. His untimely death brings sorrow upon us all--" More snorts of laughter. Narcissa had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from smiling. However, this action caused the delicate tissue to break, and next thing she knew, her mouth was filling with blood--  
  
"Mother, what has gotten into you?" She was now choking on this disgusting fluid, gagging--people were turning to stare! This was not good...what would people think? Here, at her husband's funeral, and she was choking--her vision was bluring, now real tears were streaming down her face-- "Mother?" Draco...don't direct attention....she pleaded silently.... "Mother?" The world was swirling...her son's face was twirling into a mix of colors...not his face! His face is so handsome...don't ruin his face....  
  
***  
  
There was a loud crash as Hermione dropped a goblet of tea she had been sipping. Harry, who had become all too accustomed to this sound since the change in his hair color, didn't immediatly respond to the noise. "H-Harry...take a look..." Suprised, Harry turned to face her, and noticed at once that her face had lost most of it's color. She was staring wide-eyed down at a newspaper...and that was never something good. Perhaps the Dark Lord had been seen again, he thought--but her expression was more a sad kind of shocked than a scared one. Puzzled, he walked behind her to look over the chocolate haired girl's shoulder. He almost screamed again. Not a good thing. Harry had a very feminine scream. Anyways, the print on the page made Harry quite surprised...for on it, there was a picture of Lucius Malfoy...but this picture, unlike the others, wasn't moving. Lucius wasn't moving. In fact, he looked very--  
  
--dead. The body was found by his wife, Narcissa Malfoy, on the night of August 28th. Cause of death is believed to be--  
  
"Murder!" Harry breathed in shock. "Who would murder--" "Poor Draco..." Hermione whispered, tears brimming her eyes and silently riding down her face. "Poor...poor...." Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Hermione, that prat insulted my hair! He's the worst thing that happened to me since Voldemort--screw that, he might as well be Voldemort! Murder! I bet HE was the one who dunnit!" he shrieked angrily. Hermione just looked at him dumbfounded. Since when had he...well, since last ordeal with Voldemort, Harry had become somewhat of a prat...but still, sinking so low as to.... Casting him one last, chilling stare, she turned on her heel and left.  
  
***  
  
"Shit!" was the only thing he could say as he stared down at the Daily Prophet. "Shit!" he swore again. "What do you mean, 'shit'?" Pansy asked blatantly. "Draco, your family made front page. You should be proud." "Not that, you dumbshit," Draco growled at the foolish excuse for a girl hunched over him. She had never been pretty, and had certainly never mastered the art of being feminine--but at this point in her life, Draco could harldy decipher her from Crabbe or Goyle. She wringled her monstrous nose in puzzlement and frowned. Not a very becoming expression. "What do you mean by that, Dracy?" Dracy. The only isnpiration ever given to him to actually smack a girl. Well, besides that Granger...and his mother...but his mother was understandable. I mean, he reasoned, what kind of child wouldn't be traumatized by walking in on his mother in bed with Lord Voldemort himself? Not to mention the fact that she had threatened the life of four students attending Hogwarts had he not murdered his father. The first two he didn't give a damn about, but he found he'd be unable to live with himself had he allowed to go through with it. He hated his mother. "Dracy, what do you mean by 'Shit'?" Draco stared at her in disbelief. "Well," he began, "for one thing, I was referring to a gigantic pile of horse manuar. For a second, I mean, simply, Shit." With that, he stood, bumped her out of his way, and made his way to the bed chambers. If anyone read the papers, he was screwed...news spread like wildfire, and if Potter got suspicious--or even worse, if he tried to be noble...Draco just wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it.  
  
3 Months Earlier....  
  
Narcissa sat, staring blankly in front of her. To the left, a tall, pale and sickeningly snakely figure was also sitting. She shivered. Narcissa hated snakes. There was a knock on the door. "Narcissa, are you done yet?" the annoyed voice of her husband wafted through to her ears. "Foolish be the one who interrupts the Dark Lord when he is in bed!" Voldemort hissed. "Allright, allright...sorry..." The voice faded as Lucius walked, a bit dejectedly, back down the hall. Suprisingly, he had taken the affair quite well. In his view of things, he should be so lucky to have slept with one whom the Dark Lord himself would see fitting. However, it got unnerving hearing sounds coming from that room and knowing that they weren't being made by him.... Draco, suprisingly, had taken it the hardest. Though the Malfoys were hardly people, the son had shown a suprisingly large amount of humanity when he almost attacked Voldemort upon accidently walking in on the two...he hadn't talked to his mother since. "I'm growing tired of that man interrupting us." "Shall I send him off?" Narcissa asked, now examining her manicure. "No, I never much liked him...but, I could do for some amusement...." Narcissa tipped an eyebrow, quietly pleading.... "What are you suggesting?" she asked evenly.   
  
The humanless face looked thoughtful for a second, and almost frowned as it hissed, "We kill him."  
  
Back to Zhee Future....  
  
Draco glared into the fire of his common room. The fire burned like the hate in his eyes, reflecting and imitating; composing and singing his soul in the flames. He'd had to do it. Even if it was just three lives, he'd been forced to give his innocence for them...he didn't regret doing it- -well, at least, he didn't regret saving three of his classmates, although any of the onlookers would have found that hard to believe. He did, however, regret the sin he'd committed. For, beneath the surface, he'd loved his father. Draco was his father's ashes; without the fire he never would have existed. Lucius, behind his ways of hate, mallace, murder and scam, cared for two things in the intire world. They had been his wife and Draco. Although Narcissa had betrayed him on the deepest level, Draco knew Lucius still loved her. He saw the agony in those icy blue eyes as Lucius found his Master and wife in bed time after time; he had seen envy and anger tearing at his soul. Son had watched as his father tore out his anger and used it as his chosen weapon; Draco watched as his father killed Mudbloods with more mallace and more spite than he had ever seen. In those past few months, Draco and Lucius had almost bonded, using each other as life supports in their ocean of misery. Although if you had been watching them, you'd never had noticed they were pained, they, however, could recognize the signals of concealed emotion. It took pain to know pain, and though they pretended to ignore each other and only spoke--in the harshest tones, mind you--there was a silent yet affective agreement between them--a tiny thread of understanding. That was why Draco could still vividly remember Lucius's look of pure shock when the thread was cut--when Draco had taken out his knife and had aimed it at Lucius's heart. The man had reached for his wand, but Draco had taken it... At least at the ending of one life he'd spared three others. Granger, Potter and Weasly. He wasn't exactly sure what had driven him to sink to such levels as to actually care about the three--possibly, he mused, it was the gut feeling that he had to see Potter just one more time.... He supposed he'd have rather died than missing Potter's yellow hair.  
  
A/N: i kind of want yellow hair. blonde is boring. 


	3. Bacon

Chapter Three--Bacon  
  
a/n: hi again! ok, so they're short. so what. i'll work on it. anyways here's basically a narcissis harry, a hermione and draco confrontation, and narcissa going mental. please r/r--and enjoy!! oh, and by the way--the title has NOTHING to do with the chapter, i just reaaally want bacon right now. anyways, happy day!  
  
***  
  
Harry stared himself over in the mirror. With out thinking, he ran his fingers through his disgustingly yellow hair, then wiped his hands on his pants. Leaning forward and squinting slightly, he studied his face with patience and vigor that would put Lockhart to shame. Scrunching up his features, he checked aimlessly for pimples before relaxing and slipping into thought. Hermione had stuck up for Malfoy. She thus felt bad for the git. She was insane. That really was the only plausable explanation. Plausable. Explanation. Damn, he thought to himself, I sound smart when I think. The wheels in his brain started turning. Maybe I should write a book of smart phrases-- He slapped his head. Since when had he become like this?! He was no worse than Malfoy!! He splashed some water on his face and scrubbed with his hands, then returned his gaze to his reflection. What have you become? he wondered softly. His eyes traveled to his scar, his mark of nobility and indiffrance for rules; his right to shameless advances, his honor, his pride... Now concealed by, instead of jet black hair, brilliant yellow. Harry sighed. No wonder Hermione was mad at him. His hair looked as if some mutated dog with bleaching piss had taken a dump on his head. Although, he thought, turning to the side and eyeing himself thoughtfully, yellow hair really does suit me more than it does Malfoy. That stupid git. Just because his father was murdered--hell, his whole family had been murdered! That's no reason for her to stick up for him. Next thing you know, he pondered, she'll be feeding him dog buscuits out of her hand! Somehow, Harry had reached the conclusion that the "mutated dog with bleaching piss" was Malfoy, although how Malfoy had landed one on his head kept him thoroughly puzzled.  
  
***  
  
Hermione walked slowly down the hallway, debating. There were three places she could go--the library, where she'd possibly yet unlikely, find Malfoy. There was the Owlery where she could send a letter to her parents-- and ask them how to deal with someone who'd suffered the loss of someone close. There was also the kitchens, where Hermione could take her mind off Malfoy and eat to her heart's content. The thing was, it wasn't as if she cared about him or anything, it was just that...she...uh, cared. But not about him. Just about...how he was. She winced in frustration, but continued walking. Slowly a conclusion dawned on her. It wasn't that she liked the boy, in fact, she almost loathed him. After what he'd done to Hagrid and the way he'd always been a prick to Harry--although the reasons for that were slowly starting to make sense to her--the way he'd always been a bastard to her...the fact that he was a bastard to everyone...sort of made her realize how alone he must be. No one liked him, his father was dead, Hermione felt his mother must be a bloody bitch, and almost worst of all, the person Malfoy had, for six years, taken pride in calling his enemy was now diminished to a wannabe Backstreet Boy. She loathed him, but she pitied him. Blast it all, it doesn't matter what I feel as long as I feel it, she decided, and pushed the thought out of her mind. By now she had been wandering the halls aimlessly and had ended up no where, so there really was no point in continuing. Best just head back, she thought glumly. Hermione turned and started walking in the opposite direction....  
  
Food. Food was all there was left for him. A fucking big hamburger, he'd have to teach those ingrates how to cook one but that was beyond his concern. All that danced in his head was the thought of a disgustingly large slab of beef fried and hammered with condiments and a gigantic bun...a bloody hamburger. Draco rose and made his way to the kitchens....  
  
They didn't usually encounter the other alone. Draco usually had a gang of Slytherins flanking him and Hermione usually had Harry or Ron by her side. Another difference was that Draco wasn't up to insulting her and she wasn't up to fighting with him. In fact, she was quite embarrassed-- Crabbe and Goyle had always made Draco look short and puny but without the stupid gits he was in fact, rather tall. Holding back a blush that was caught by Draco anyways, she nodded a hello. Draco, on the other hand, noticed with surprise that her eyes didn't burn with hate at the sight of him. In fact, she looked a bit--bewildered-- with what to make of him and he could see her mind spinning, trying to think of something to say. When she nodded in his direction, he turned around to see if anyone was behind him. With noticable shock, he realized they were alone. Quickly, anger filled the place shock had just vacated. How dare she talk to him? Howe dare she pity him? Because there was no doubt in his mind that she did. She was one third of the reason his father was dead, and although she had no way of knowing that, she was one of the Potty's admirers. Of course she'd pity him. His mind was racing. It was her fault Lucius was dead. No, that was all him-- fuck that, it was still her fault. It was her fault she had existed, wasn't it? "What do you want?" he snapped. Immediatly, but purely out of habit, her anger flared. "Nothing you prat. I was just trying to be friendly." With that, Hermione turned on her heal and started walking the other direction. "Turn back around, Granger," he snarled angrily. She twirled around again, her hair bouncing around her face as she eyed him angrily. "Don't you dare tell me--" "You stupid Mudblood, that's the direction I'm going. Unless you want to walk with me, keep going the way you were headed." As menacing as the last comment had been, it was weak and not at all offending. Hermione frowned and the red heat that had been surging through her muscles resided a little. "Listen, Malfoy, I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry about your father." She sighed and shoved past him, making her way back to the common rooms. Draco just stood there, shock penetrating his core and pushing back into the place it had so recently left.  
  
***  
  
Narcissa stared blankly at a photo of Draco. He was three, and he was casually poking a dead fish with detatched interest. Her eyes wandered to another picture, this one a large, framed photo. It was Lucius, Draco and herself. They were all three scowling at the camera with their classic Malfoy looks, each perfected by years of intolerence. Lucius was blinking dangerously, his lip quivering from his scowl every once in a while, Draco mirroring his father's expression with a bit of his own touch added in--in his eyes you could see an untamed animal, clawing desparately, still fighting, always fighting....Narcissa was glaring blandly at the camera, managing to glare without wrinkling any lines in her face. Every once in a while, she would reach up to pat her perfectly managed hair. The next photo was one of her father, another of her aunt and then a few more of Draco and Lucius and herself. Narcissa sighed, almost sadly. Why had Lucius become a Death Eater? Why was she continually having sex with Voldemort? Why was her son the only normal one in her family? Where had things gone wrong? Slowly, a tear slid down her once beautiful face. She loved her son, almost as much as Lucius had. But love was weak, fruitless, hopeless, and incredibly pointless. It mattered nothing these days, anyways. All it did was cause pain to her and to others...if only she could kill it with hate. Ahhh, but you can kill love...whispered a voice in her head. She frowned. You can kill love, it repeated. It now seemed to be audibly speaking. You killed your husband, didn't you? He loved Draco, and soon Draco will fall in love. The voice was still growing in volume, blooming through her head like an orchid, pounding....Draco will fall in love. You know he will--you failed raising him...it was screaming, and suddenly the voice was no longer a voice nor a thought, but roaring around her, inside hear teeth, behind her eyeballs, scraping her porclein skin....He has feelings, it hammered, he is human. You must kill him. Kill Draco. Kill love. Kill him....Everything around her was tilting, she was becoming unbalanced the world around her crashed and danced and screamed and wasn't but was and could never be. A mad glint flickered in Narcissa's eye before it was quickly extinguished. What was she thinking?! He was her son...and he was her husband....kill him....softly moaning, Narcissa sank to the floor, clutching at her head, clutching at whatever sanity she still possessed....  
  
***  
  
a/n: hmph. whatever. please review!!! 


	4. Puke Green Potions and Love Letters from...

Chapter Four--Puke Green Potions and Love Letters from Mother  
  
a/n--yah, again. anyways, ok so the chaps are short but ill work at that. anyways, thanks for reading--and yes, there will be more lightheartedness and dm/hg later on...but hey i was in a bad mood so there haha peace   
  
***  
  
There were many signs that today was going to be a bad day. Not only did he have to teach the Gryffendors, but that bloody Potter was sure to be even more stuck-up than normal. Snape had considered actually joining the Death Eaters just to spite the child, but with the boy's blind luck and idiot allies he was clearly undefeatable. That is why, when Potter entered the room cloaked by his fellow Gryffendors, Serverus almost passed out. His...his...hair. Clearly the boy had attempted to look more like his rival, Draco...Snape was quite fond of that boy, even if he was a little too rich for his own good. But honestly....Snape was dumbfounded. The boy looked like Owen Willson gone bad. He could have passed for a frikken llama with that unnatural....yellow. Unfortunatly for Harry, his unnaturally yellow hair contrasted heavily with his unnaturally puke green face...he looked as if he was about to throw up. Rightfully so, Snape thought, smirking. Potter must have been so scared of Serverus's reaction.... Well, Serverus decided, might as well change the lesson plans a little; give the boy some puke green hair to match his puke green face....  
  
***  
  
The common room was quite. This wasn't anything new, however; people hardly ever talked unless someone's life was being made miserable. However, the silence did make Draco's train of thought unbearably focused. The same things had been wracking his brain since the summer, and now that stupid Mudblood had made things even worse. He didn't waste much time on her, but it still puzzled him--that is, until he remembered that she was one of those disgusting three...those insuffrable idiots who would do anyone a favor, then send them a dazzling smile and quip, "No need to thank me!" They were just begging for attention, Draco decided defiantly. He'd killed someone for them. He felt disgusted with himself. You did the right thing, he told himself. Of course he had. By killing his father, he'd not only saved three of his schoolmates, but all those his father had planned on killing and all those those prats were "destined" to save in the future. Yes, that's right. Bloody hell. Draco sighed and leaned his head against the back of a cushion and sighed. His silvery blonde hair--it wasn't, nor would it ever be, yellow--spilled around his head. For a while he'd felt he'd have a much sexier look if he grew his hair long, but quickly grew out of that idea when he found out how long it actually took to grow hair. He felt magicing his hair would make him appear desparate. Like that Potter. Draco smiled as he remembered the day's Potions class earlier that day when Snape had told them that this spell would be used to fix errors made by irresponsable students. Harry had, of course, chosen a spell which would turn his hair back to his natural color. Draco had watched, smirking evily, as Snape had strode by Harry's goblet and in the flash of an eye, dropped some powder into the concotion. Draco was the only one who witnessed this occurance, and he certainly didn't stand up for Harry when he accused Snape of mixing some "secret ingrediant" into his potion. Thus, a very angry and very puke-green haired Potter stormed out of the room. Weasley had immediatly turned and faced Malfoy, bright red, and had bellowed some third class insults, but Draco had been far too consumed with his laughing to notice. However, when he caught "Miss" Granger's eye, she looked far from amused.   
  
Slowly his thoughts faded into ectasy as there was a knock on the window. Draco turned around in surpise as he immediatly recognized his family owl. Frowning, he strode over and let the shivering bird in. His mother had never written to him before; that had always been left for his father to do. Draco ripped open the envelope and pulled out the parchment. In his mother's very beautiful yet very hard to read handwriting, Draco read thus:  
  
"Draco, Darling, This is your mother. I do admit I have never written to you before, but as circumstances hold it, your father is not in the current position to do so. With that jackass currently out of our lives, I have been left to make all of the decisions of our household. I find this very tiresome and I fear I may be aging faster because of it. For this reason, I am taking you out of school a week from Tuesday. Please look presentable; Mr. Cupcake (his mother's pet name for Voldemort,) will be present when you return from your current location. Knowing that you are quite the thickheaded child, I do presume you will attempt remaining in school, which is why I warn you--Jackson will be the one retrieving you. I also would like to remind you that your father's plan of removing the Mudblood, her Weasley deciple and most importantly, Harry Potter from the premises is also quite in effect. Jackson will be fetching them also-- and do not attempt their savior again. Your first try was incredibly disgraceful to our bloodline. If you do show any signs of repeating such actions, I will kill the girl slowly rather than quickly, kill that Weasley's parents in front of his eyes and give Potter to the Dark Lord alive rather than dead. You know what that means. With all due love,  
  
Your Mother P.S. Please use gel in your hair when picked up, and make sure to wear the embroidered robes. Otherwise you look like a pathetic, whining brat.  
  
Draco stared in horrified shock at the letter. She was still planning to...then it all really had been for nothing....he felt sick. Slowly, he sat back down and folded the letter, placing it on his knee. Then, abruptly, he stood back up, shoved the letter in his pocket, and made his way to the corridors outside.  
  
***  
  
Harry, thoughts jumbled and twisted, decided a nice stroll in his invisibility cloak would do him some good. He sighed as he crept silently and with ease through the corridors, stepping calmly around teachers and wandering students. Slowly his progress drifted into an automatic movement, his mind was now wandering and was no longer focused on his surroundings. That is why, when Harry quickly dodged a Malfoy who had just turned the corner, he didn't have the mind enough to hold back his "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Draco stopped, his eyes which a moment before had been glazed over, regained their stormy glare. He slowly turned to face the empty space the voice had just come from. Seething, he uttered the words that made his stomach drop, his fists clench and his expression flash. "Harry Potter." Harry's breath caught in his throat. Oh shit. He had two choices-- run and pretend he hadn't just been as stupid as Malfoy himself, or stay and face the demonic presence before him. He chose the second for reasons he couldn't grasp and slowly slid the cloak off his body. He watched Draco's face as impassively as he could, but to his dissapointment, Draco seemed perfectly at ease with his archenemy appearing out of no where. Then he said the most shocking thing Harry had ever heard come from his mouth. "Well, Potter, I've been looking for you. And Weasly. And Granger," he said, frowning as he added her name to the list. Immediatly, Harry was on the defence. "What do you want with us?" he commanded. Draco sighed, and said as nonchallantly as if he were telling Harry he'd just saved the world again, he said "To save your asses, dipshit." Harry gaped.  
  
Ron stared into the fire silently. He just didn't understand that girl. Oh bloody hell, he'd just won for understatement of the year. It was pointless, really. They were always fighting about something, but it was just...sometimes he just wished they wouldn't. That's right, Ron, he scolded himself. You're certainly smart. There was a noise behind him and in surprise, Ron realized he was staring at Hermione. "Hello, Ron." "Oi, 'Mione," he said, trying, but failing, to not sound so enthusiastic. She raised an eyebrow but smiled anyways. "Listen," he said quickly, as if afraid she would up and leave on him. "Listen, I didn't side with Harry, I do think its a major buggar that Malfoy's dad was killed, you just never gave me a chance to agree with you!" Hermione stared at him in disbelief. What the hell? Since when did Ron do the apologizing?! Her red haired freind looked hopefully at her through his goofy little haircut and her heart couldn't help but melting. She loved Ron, she really did...but not the way he did her, and they both knew that. She laughed and said, "Well, now that that's over with, how have you been doing?" He didn't get a chance to answer. At that moment, the portrait opened and in stepped Harry. In stepped Harry and Draco Malfoy.  
  
***  
  
A/N--lalala...more of the sex god (hahaha read angus thongs and full frontal snogging its funny stuff!!!) and the bookworm (in the best possible way) and the nematoad. hehe. 


	5. Close Encounters

Chapter Five: Close Encounters  
  
a/n: whelp, here goes. draco splains hisself end we meet jackson, the gay wareweff hitman : ) oh yeah, and i know warewolfs cant remember things after they change back but uhm....jacksons a special case.  
  
***  
  
For a moment all anyone could do was stand there. Then Ron, acting on his incredible ability to demonstrate his hate for Malfoy no matter how odd the circumstances, flushed tomato red and shouted, "Harry, what in the nine bloody hells were you thinking??!"  
  
Harry visibly winced. "Ron, shush down, there's a reason, I can explain, just calm--"  
  
"This place is disgusting."  
  
Three suprised faces turned to Draco, who was looking around the room as if it was full rotting, maggot infested cows. Better yet, looking around the room the way a normal person would look at a place full of rotting, maggot infested cows. Harry's eyes immediatly darkened.  
  
"Listen Malfoy, you'd better--"  
  
"We have an agreement, Potter, I'll save your asses as long as I don't have to be nice to any of you."  
  
"Harry what is he talking about?" a strangled-looking Ron squeaked.  
  
And slowly sighing, a tired Draco Malfoy began to explain.  
  
***  
  
Jackson pinched out a cigar on the silver metal of the bench. He was tall, tan and gay. His midnight black hair hung loosely and windswept about his broad shoulders and his bright blue eyes seemed unvisited by anything but ghosts and pain. His face was square and his large jaw jutted out in a ridiculously stubborn way, hiding his strong mouth and canine fangs. Although he was only in his early twenties, he already had a long scar running from his mid cheek, over the left corner of his eye and down along his throat. If the sleeves of his leather jacket were rolled up, you would find scars crisscrossed all over his arms, and the same went for his tight leather pants, his shirt, and his boots. He was very nearly a walking cut.  
  
Until he Lucius had discovered him, he had made a living partaking in warewolf fights at Ricando's Pub. Old Ricando had given him a roof over his head, three square meals a day and full access to as much beer as he wanted. On most days of the month when he wasn't wolf, he helped run the pub, doing odd favors, and at nightimes running the shows of other creatured fights. The conditions had been hard and he had nearly died several times in the fights. But the rush he had gotten fighting was one he knew he'd never get again.  
  
It had been the hardest fight of his life. The opponent hadn't looked like much, muscle-bound and long-haired as a man and even more ferocious as a wolf, but he could remember tougher looking chaps.  
  
How wrong he was.  
  
The thing had been maniacal. As he reflected, he could not even believe that Dogma, for that is what they had called him, had even been *part* human. On that night, he came closer to dying than he ever had, he felt pain like he never had. However, on that night, he met the one man that never failed to make him feel more alive. On that night, a lone wolf's life changed forever.  
  
For better or worse is to be determined.  
  
Thus far the fight had been nausiating. With his first attack, Dogma had shown that he was the dominant male. As they had punched and kicked, slowly changing from man to wolf as they grappled, Jackson could almost feel the energy seeping out of his body and into Dogma's. At first he was aware of it, but with his body, his human mind began to slip away from him also. With his mind and his human body, his strength began to be lost to him, because slowly but surely, he was beginning to lose.  
  
Dogma was fast and strong, and as beer bottles crashed against the cage, Jackson started to lose the canine confidence that was part of his very soul. With flicks of his sturdy paws, the gigantic wolf was able to fake Jackson at every move, teasing, coming forward, twisting out of his reach at the last moment, coming back to take a bite out of the misguided wolf. Slamming him against the cage bars over and over again, the confused and infuriated Jackson knew nothing but teeth and claws, teeth and claws...his tail drooped between his legs and he yelped miserably. He had known he was nearing the end when, backed into a corner of the cage, ears flat to his skull, eyes and tongue lolling with instinctive dread, his human conciousness had watched from somewhere far away as tearing teeth sank into his throat and ripped it out, claws gashing into his stomach...his intrails leaked out of him like the yolks of a smashed egg, and as blood and skeletons had mixed his vision with screaming, sweaty, drunk, disgusting men, he had seen something....  
  
A flash of silver....  
  
Although in his wolf-state he could not think, what he saw made his canine heart twist...dark, golden skin and silvery blonde hair, luminous and haunting eyes...something he could not understand melted into his body...somehow strength was seeping into his bones, into his dying muscles, and in a blind fury, with only that face in his head, he lept forward and charged, snarling, growling, wanting to feel blood in his mouth, wanting to tear, grasp and kill more than he ever had wanted to in his life. Whatever was driving him, whether it was adrinaline or that man or merely his will to live, he was not sure. Even if he had been in his human form he would not have been sure, but as he blacked out, he realized in a single moment that with whatever peice of humanity that man had given back to him, the fight was over, and he had won.   
  
Jackson sighed. Lucius had approached him upon his return to human form and had offered him a job. The job of protecting him and his family. He had immediatly accepted, realizing with certainty that no matter if Lucius had a wife, as long as he was working for whatever Lucius was, he would allways be close to him.  
  
Narcissa had recently forced Lucius to Jackson go...and when he had learned of Lucius's death....  
  
Jackson sighed again. Despite the Malfoy wishes, Jackson had always prefered Muggle transportation. Muggles had always seemed so free to him. So...well, stupid, but unburdened all the same. Although if he had ever taken time to actually *look* at them, he would see contrary, all he needed was to be around them....  
  
He gave a small cough and rose from the bench as a grumpy looking man yanked the doors of the double decker bus open and motioned for Jackson and an elder woman who had just walked up to get in. Jackson obliged and tried desparately to keep his mind off the fact that he was about to betray the son of the only man he had ever loved.  
  
***  
  
The only four occupants of the Gryffindor common room were nearly drowning in the stiff silence that had fallen over the group as the youngest Malfoy son finished his story.  
  
The first to break the silence was Hermione. "Dra...Malfoy," she said, thinking better of it, "You killed your father to save us?"  
  
"Hermione, you can't honestly believe--" began Ron.  
  
"Malfoy you're full of--" retorted Harry.  
  
"--tely missed the point!" finished Draco.  
  
Hermione stared pensively, then barely audibly said to Harry and Ron, "I believe him." Three startled faces now turned to stare at *her*. She took a deep, ragged breath. Her head was spinning. She needed to think. She slowly started.  
  
"What I'm saying is, despite everything Malfoy's done to us, he's just too...too mean to be lying about this." Everyone stared at her in bewilderment. Even Draco had no idea what the girl was getting at. "What I mean is," Hermione said, now biting her lip and silently begging for the right words, "If he honestly didn't give a damn about any of us--I don't mean liking us I just mean caring whether we're dead or alive," she added hastily, seeing Draco's face, "Well, I mean if he didn't care, he never would have bothered tormenting us all of these years. So I just can't see you wanting to kill any of us." Her last statement was directed directly at Draco, and for some reason his heart raced a little.  
  
Besides, Draco had to hand it to her--as much as the girl's logic was completely off target, uninformed, full of loopholes and downright manic, she *did* make a valid point.  
  
"That's bonkers, 'Mione," Ron said, staring at the pensive girl. "I mean, if he hates us, he hates us."  
  
"But..." now Harry spoke. Instinctively, everyone turned to him. Instinctively, everyone winced. His hair was just too much. He flushed. "But," he continued, "Ron, notice Malfoy didn't deny it."  
  
"Doesn't say anything! This could be a trap!"  
  
Now Draco flushed. "Well, Weasel, if it's a trap then either way you're dead. Just weigh your odds. I'll be waiting outside the common room, and if you're not out there in ten minutes, then its your ass and not mine." With that, he huffily got up and quickly exited the common room.  
  
***  
  
Five minutes passed. Seven. Nine. Nine and a half, then ten. Eleven. And for some reason, Draco was still waiting there. This is so stupid, the thought to himself. Why on earth am I doing this? The question was gnawing on his brain like starved pirhanas, and finally, unable to take the strain on his heart any more, he turned to leave when he heard the portrait open, and a nervous, brown haired girl stepped out.  
  
"Ron and Harry are coming," she said softly, biting her lip again.  
  
Draco nodded. They waited a minute in silence, and then there was a soft sound and the portrait opened. Harry and Ron stepped out. There was another uncomfortable silence, and then, taking a quick glance around the group, Draco turned on his heel and began to walk. And they followed.  
  
a/n: whelp, bout wraps it up for now. r/r puhweese!! 


	6. The Blueberry Door

Chapter 6--The Blueberry Door  
  
a/n. aright. this chaps a little incrediblamungus boringness...i need to start picking up the pace. i will. promise.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione followed Draco down the familiar corridors, looking almost reminiscently as they went. For all of six years of their lives, this school had been a second home, or in Harry's case, his first. There had always been numerous parts of this school to depend on--for example, safety, friends you could trust, and at least one disaster to reconfigure Harry's title as an oh-so-noble, galliant knight. Another thing the trio had always counted on was the hateful, spiting and ingoramous Draco Malfoy, and his evil slobs of Slytherin chum. Now here they were, following their worst enemy who was by all accounts trying to save their lives, and it made them feel vaguely strange--bittersweet and amused, to be walking down these halls and realizing that their time there was drawing to a close. That things were slowly but surely changing.  
  
The silence was deafening.  
  
Unable to stand it any longer, Harry spoke. "Why don't we just go to Dumbledore?"  
  
Something like a mental twig snapped in Draco's mind. Bloody, stupid, pratty Potter. "Listen you prat. I've got no bloody reason to explain myself to you, but if you dare turn to Dumbledore for this I swear I'll have your head." Draco stopped walking and turned to stare at Harry, his silver eyes cutting through the boy like silver knives. "Just because you don't have a family does not mean I should not protect mine." Harry flushed.   
  
"Malfoy, if you think--"  
  
"Harry..." It was Hermione. "Harry, please not now. Let's not go to Dumbledore...they'll take his mum...." Draco stared at her in suprise. This Granger wasn't as bad as he thought. Sure, she was a bossy, know it all bitch that pissed him off at every turn of her mathematically calculated and angled road...he frowned. No, she still was as bad as he thought. He realized he was still staring at her as he thought and quickly turned away. In a gruff voice he said, "We're here, anyways."  
  
They had reached a dead end, but no one was thick enough to be fooled by it. Draco fumbled about his robes for a wand and yanked it out, cracked his knuckles and stared at the wall for a minute. Harry wondered what part of the wall Malfoy found so interesting but then noticed three scratches on the third brick from the left, fourth row from the bottom. Malfoy seemed to be muttering something to himself, thinking, frowning....  
  
Hermione watched. She couldn't for the life of her understand why he was doing this for them. She could see by the look of pain in his eyes that he was telling the truth, but...the way he looked at them all...how sad he was...she couldn't help it. Something in her made her want to wrap her arms around him and comfort him. Despite everything she had hated him for, keeping that feeling for someone who had had killed a parent to save them was like trying to touch a cloud through the window on a plane. Impossible.  
  
Draco felt eyes on the back of his neck. Why was that bloody Granger still staring at him? He had half a mind to meet her gaze but somehow couldn't, so he continued thinking.  
  
Harry watched and after a while Draco must have figured out whatever was bothering him. He took one last perplexed look at the wall before he shouted, "Two, fourteen, *puertaclaro!*" A dark blue haze shot out of his wand and settled around various bricks in the wall. Slowly two bricks disapeard and a few more bricks shifted to fill their place. Then Harry counted fourteen more bricks disappear and more moved to fill the gap. Now the wall began to fade and looked exactly like the blue mist that incircled it, revealing (suprise suprise) a hidden passage way.  
  
"Suprise, suprise," Harry muttered to Ron, reading my mind, and Ron eyed the nearly invisible wall cautiously. Hermione only stared. She had read about walls like these, Puertapiensas if she was correct, but had never actually seen one. She was also suprised that it had only taken Malfoy a few minutes to figure it out; for these Puertapiensas were forged by servents of the Sphynx and had been designed as an inigma to the discoverer, changing the codes every few minutes of the day.  
  
Draco lead them through it and they followed, feeling a light gust of cool air as they walked through the ghost door. Right off the bat it was obvious that this corridor was nothing special. It looked exactly like the hallway they had just been walking in, only there was less light and it was not so well kept. Draco quickly turned, muttured "Fourteen, two, *regrese*" and the light zipped back into his wand, the bricks reshifted and the wall became solid once again, smothering what little light was left.  
  
"Lumos," four instentanious voices muttered, and light filled the air.  
  
"Not trying to question you or anything Malfoy, but where the hell are we?" Harry asked bluntly, looking around with clouded aprehension.   
  
"My father created these tunnels with his friends. They lead into Hogsmeade and to our Estate. And last year I extended them so they go to Lupin's." Three heads snapped up. "Lupin?"  
  
"Yes. Potter, he wasn't only interested in you. He knew about my mum and vati's practices and told me if I ever needed anything to contact him. Last year I needed him. So he helped me extend this tunnel, and that's where we're going now." Draco was feeling increasingly weary and was beginning to have trouble keeping his temper short and worthy of the Malfoy title.   
  
Harry shrugged looked around. This was good news. Not only that, his hair wasn't so visible here. Who knew, there was enough dust in this place to maybe even get this atrociousness to a darker green color. More of a grass color than a snot one. Not that snot was a bad thing. It actually sometimes had a rather pretty tint when spread on a nappy, and of course *his* snot was attractive, he was *always* attractive--Harry jolted out of his thoughts, stunned again. What the bloody hell was he on about? He winced but of course no one noticed. Hermione was looking around curiously and Ron was fuming silently. Malfoy was just walking.  
  
That prat Malfoy. Harry couldn't believe that he was actually following this idiot around. Stupid Malfoy. Stupid--  
  
Something caught him around the throat and in a panic, he made a small gurgley noise and reached for his wand. Maybe his hair was reminiscent to puke but he had his experience, and he knew when a wand was neccessa--  
  
Why was everything spinning? And why was everything so black? With a confused and goofy grin, Harry sank cluelessly to the floor.  
  
***  
  
A small thump sent Draco's heart into his throat and up his nose. He lurched around and looked about wildly, startling Hermione out of thought and making Ron even grumpier.   
  
"What now--"  
  
"Shh!" Malfoy hiss dangerously. Ron rolled his eyes, but still perked his ears up and stretched his senses. "I don't hear anything," he said sadistically and coninued walking when Draco nearly tackled him to a wall and whispered, "Where's Potter, you idiot?"  
  
Ron stared blankly, and slowly Hermione groaned.  
  
Harry was no where to be seen.  
  
a/n--ok, pointless chappy but im TRYING to get some alone time with draco and hermy. lol. so what wouldja guys think of a lupin/jackson pairing? yes? no? tell me whatcha think! 


	7. Buhbye and, HELLO!

Chapter 7--Buhbye and, HELLO!  
  
a/n: oh WOW this chappy is majorly stupid and if ya want ill rewrite it. i probably will anyways lol.  
  
"Shit," Ron moaned, his face white as styrafoam. He turned to Draco furiously. "This is *your* fault Malfoy!" he screeched. "Where the hell is Harry?" Draco shook his head, his face drawn into a wince. Ron grabbed Malfoy by the front of his robes and shook him. "WHERE THE HELL IS HE?" he shrieked, his face now contorted with terror and oh-my-god-my-face-looks-like-styrafoamness. A startled Draco immediatly shrugged himself free, shouting instinctively, "Hands *off*, Weasly!" This caused Ron to radiate even more fury, but before he could do anything else Hermione defiantly stepped between Malfoy and Ron. "Ron, *don't*, let's just ask--"  
  
Ron stared at her as if she had gone mad. "Hermione what's your *problem*? Why is it your sticking up for that--that--" His face had quickly manifested a dark purple taint, and Hermione feared he might literally blow his top. However, a voice behind her said, "Yes Granger, why *do* you keep sticking up for me?" Hermione rolled her eyes to the heavens; she *really* did not need this. "Really," she said, flushing a bit, "can't we please just focus on Harry?"  
  
I'm sure Harry would have liked hearing her say that.  
  
However, no one responed to her question. Malfoy's mouth was hanging slightly open and he was staring straight ahead. A dread descended on the corridor like a drunk fisherman, and already knowing what she was going to see, Hermione turned to face a Ron that was no longer there. She hopefully stretched her neck around, slightly bewildered by the situation, but as she expected, he was no where to be seen.  
  
"Where did--"  
  
"Jackson."  
  
"The hit man?"  
  
Draco was a bit miffed by her bluntness--he liked the man really, but nodded anyways. "Yeah...I should have figured he'd know we'd be taking these tunnels...in fact, I had a strong feeling about it when Potty vanished but I didn't have a chance to say--"  
  
"Like *hell* you didn't," Hermione said softly, now becoming slightly angry. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Instead of helping Ron turn on me you could have at least explained that Jason or Jackson--" ("Jackson," Draco confirmed, nodding approvingly,) "--already knew where we were, and oh honestly..." Draco sighed backed off for a moment, deciding to let her vent some steam. He slowly let his brain unfold like poorly made oragami, and his thoughts seeped off and slid around on his mental oragami paper...in his head he was folding dragons...out of no where he realized his wonder of why she kept standing up for him was not something he minded...stupid Mudbloods and their since of dignity. Malfoy quickly resharpened his mind and readied himself to break the silence when he realized there WASN'T one-- that Granger was *still* rambling, and she showed no signs of slowing down.   
  
"And here we are, two people that HATE each other, and you know, Harry was probably right, you probably shouldn't be trusted, but the look you had, unless you take drama, but you wouldn't because I can't see you in tights...well I could, but--"  
  
Draco just stared at her, fixating on her face, not at all listening of what she was saying. He knew how to handle girls when they didn't shut up. Hell, he knew how to handle girls no matter what. And somehow he didn't mind the idea of handling her. He slowly focused his eyes onto hers, which took a minute because she was looking all over the place as she spoke. He slowly moved towards her, and her words died on her lips as she looked up at him in confusion.  
  
What the hell was Malfoy doing? Hermione thought, her heart fluttering a little. She watched him cautiously as he approached but couldn't deny that the boy was beautiful. He was still moving towards her....That look in his eyes...what was he doing?? She made a small "Urk!" sound, and he smiled a little. Wow, Hermione thought, wow wow wow what am I doing--Draco put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her against the wall and slid against her. She shivered as she felt him so close; his hair fell in his eyes and without thinking she reached up to brush it away, and he moved even closer...she could feel the heat of his body as he made the milimeters between them vanish into thin air. He leaned his head forward so their lips were a feathers distance away, they touched...  
  
And then everything went black.  
  
"Damn," Draco said, realizing Jackson had taken her just in time to leave him with a majorly large boner.  
  
a/n: short, stupid, im sorry. i donno if im going to keep going with it..i want to but i need suggestions! puhLEASE r.r!  
  
oh yeah, and i know when draco was thinking it was kind of confusing. i dont know i've never known anyone who could actually think straight so i was just trying to capture that. 


	8. The Joys of a Mirror

Chapter Eight--The Joys of a Mirror  
  
a/n: ok, so basically its slowgoing. im going to admit to it. i hope i can pick it up but for now i gotta straighten things out!! oh well, enjoy!  
  
When Harry awoke to find himself chained to a bed only feet away from a beautiful woman, he had to laugh at how ironic it was that he wouldn't be enjoying this. Draco Malfoy's mother was sitting on a titanium stool staring into...Harry craned his neck hopefully--yes, it was a mirror. She hadn't noticed he had waken, or it appeared so, because she was frowning slightly as she brushed her silver hair slowly. She was staring at her reflection intently, and with a start Harry realized that her reflection was softly singing something.  
  
"They fall, they fall  
  
So quickly, the children  
  
With blood on their hands  
  
They fall, they fall...."  
  
Harry shuddered. Narcissa seemed to finally realize he was in the room and turned to face him. Her features strongly resembled Draco's. Her face was delicate and soft, her eyes seemed to melt into her lips and her forehead seemed to melt into her mane. And for some reason all this melting looked very attractive on her. She saw him staring and smirked.  
  
Yup, definatly a Malfoy, Harry thought, groaning.  
  
"Harry Potter," she said softly, contemplatively. Harry only nodded. Classic greeting. Her eyes travelled over him and wandered to his hair. Her smirk grew.  
  
"Poor thing," she whispered and rose from her seat. She was wearing silver white robes that clung to her body and Harry gulped. She floated towards a table sitting near the bed and drew a wand that Harry had not noticed before. She pointed it at him and his gulp deepened. "What color would you like?" she asked, smiling at him like a lake of ice. He was unable to speak and she said, "You wanted our hair. But we are part veela, Harry."  
  
He flushed. "That's not it at all! Malfoys aren't the only--"  
  
"I'll give you blonde hair, Harry." Immediatly Harry stopped talking and eyed her suspiciously.  
  
"Why would you do something like that?" he asked, finally finding his voice. She only smiled that smile, and Harry uneasily noticed her reflection leaning forward excitedly as Narcissa muttered something under her breath. A silvery blonde light seemed to wander out of her wand, moving towards Harry slowly and almost reluctantly. It moseyed over to the bed and hovered over the boy for a minute, and Harry felt the rodeo bull that was his heart running around wildly in his chest. He squirmed as the light slowly descended over his head and then vanished.  
  
His eyes, which had previously been locked shut, slowly opened. Narcissa was looking at him with a mixture of thoughtfullness and suprise.  
  
"What do you know, it looks almost decent." Harry looked at the insane smile spreading over the mistress's face and winced. The woman must have been mad. But then she sang the six words that no boy in his position could refuse--  
  
"Would you like to see it?"  
  
***  
  
When Ron awoke he found himself with sitting on a stack of what seemed to be hay with his arms tied around something that felt like a pole behind him. He seemed to be in some kind of barn; the stench of manure and dirty animals was was masquerading elegantly in his nose. Ron chose to ignore it, and looking around he noticed three things: two stables containing sleeping horses and a man sitting opposite of him, watching silently. The man had long black hair, a lot of leather, and was holding something in his arms.  
  
"Hullo," Ron said curiously. The man only nodded in reply. "You...you'd be Jackson, then?" The man nodded again and stood up, and in his approach a realization hit Ron in the head like a bludger.  
  
"PUT HERMIONE DOWN!" he said angrily, and for the first time since conscienceness had visited him there in that barn, he began to struggle. The man just eyed him warily and said, "Don't do that." He then layed Hermione gently down upon the hay and placed her head gingerly in Ron's lap. Ron flushed furiously and the man's lips curled a little and he appeared to be smiling.  
  
"How cute," he said, and walked back over to the other side of the barn, sat down.  
  
***  
  
Draco walked about aimlessly for a few minutes, pondering hopelessly. Jackson would be for him any--  
  
***  
  
Jackson sighed. It had been a long day. He was watching the Hermione girl as she was now half on the Weasel's lap and half on the Malfoy's. Just as a twist under Jackson's sick sense of humor, he had placed an unconcious Draco's hands on the Granger girl's legs, and had momentarily untied the Weasley and put him under full body lock. He was looking at Draco with helpless fury, and every now and again his eyes would flash angrily to Jackson.  
  
It was really too bad Narcissa had wanted to deal with Potter, he would have just had *too* much fun.  
  
"Don't like where his hands are, do you Weasly?" he asked knowlegably. Red seemed to spring up under iceburgs of freckles on the young boy's face and Jackson grinned. "Don't worry, she won't mind," he added, digging in his layers of leather and withdrawing a cigarette. He flicked it once and it immediatly began to smoke. He inhaled.  
  
The Weasley was now staring at him blankly. Poor thing looked confused. Jackson shifted his weight a little and chuckled. "Yes, I was surpised, too." Fire-hair and frozen ice-burg freckles. That *poor*, poor thing. Jackson tilted his head and let his eyes wander over the three of them. "Those two were kissing when I took Granger," he said, finally letting his eyes drift back up to meet Weasly, and for a moment, Jackson felt a pang of sympathy.  
  
"You feel this Granger, don't you?" he asked softly.  
  
The face didn't move. Of course it didn't.  
  
However, both of them were startled by a smack as Hermione's hand whipped across Draco's pale skin. The Malfoy's face winced and he shook his head, blinked--his eyes widened with shock and horror as he looked down to find himself nearly groping a blushing Hermione. Quickly he sprang up, knocking Hermione off her already queasy balance and she tumbled into Ron, who with bulging fish eyes fell backwards and out of sight.   
  
"YOU--" Hermione screetched--  
  
"Oh don't even--I didn't WANT--"  
  
Meanwhile, Jackson watched with growing amusement as Malfoy automatically yanked Hermione to her feet and she stepped up to him, glaring furiously as she yelled like a knocked-up tiger.  
  
"--taking advantage of--"  
  
"I never--"  
  
Then out of nowhere, the Granger brought her hand up once again, but instead bringing it across Draco as she had previously, she wrapped it around his neck, pulled him into her and began furiously kissing him. His eyes widened even further and he looked as if he was about to be knocked off his axis, but ever the gifted with reflexes, he wrapped his arms around her and began kissing her back, almost frantically.   
  
That's when Jackson noticed with an even further stretch of shock that her leg was edging up his, although Malfoy obviously hadn't...her knee was now at his waist and her ankle was wrapped around the back of his leg's bend...and then with a quick snap, she tripped both of them and they rolled off the hay and into the darkness beyond it.  
  
Jackson laughed and shook his head. What strange children.  
  
***  
  
Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and yanked him to his feet.  
  
"Granger, what in the hell--"  
  
"Shut *up*, Malfoy, help me with Ron!"  
  
And then it clicked. Draco stared at the girl in a wonderment as she started dragging the Weasel frantically by the arms. He, however, was looking at her incredulous and she said sorrowfully, "I'm sorry Ron, I had to!"  
  
"*Had* to? You know you loved every minute--" Draco was cut off as Hermione looked up at him furiously. "Loved every minute of it?" she was now hissing acidly as she whispered, "I only did it so we could get out of here! Now are you going to help me with Ron or not?"  
  
Draco smirked. "Me? Touch that thing?" Hermione made an exasperated noise that sounded suspiciously like "bitch" but dug in her robes for her wand. It wasn't there. Hermione groaned.  
  
"Didn't think you'd get away that fast, did you?" Jackson said, looking at the two with obvious amusement as he crouched above them on the haystack. "Although your performance was phenomenal--" he gave them a genuine smile, "two thumbs up."  
  
Hermione glared furiously at Draco. "This is your fault, you shit."  
  
She stomped off to go sit in another corner of the barn.  
  
Draco turned to Jackson. "Did she just call me a shit?"  
  
Jackson shrugged. "Women."  
  
a/n: i know i know, severly messed up. but im getting there, haha. just have to get harry to crack n stuff..well, keep r/r'ing please!! thanks! 


	9. Broken Mirrors, Popcorn and, you guessed...

Chapter Nine--Broken Mirrors, Popcorn and yes, Bacon!!!  
  
A/n: i suppose i should clear some stuff up. hermy and draco dont like each other yet. or not much; there first kiss was purely attraction/confusion, whatever you want to call it. hermy's moves on draco were just to try to get them out of sight so they could blow da joint!! haha. anyways...huurrr we go! and much thanks for the reviews! i lob them. also, way back when, dont remember what chapter, i think it was 1 or 2, draco was thinking about how he didnt care about the four students he'd saved when he killed his father. my bad, only three...ron, harry, hermione.  
  
Harry stared at his reflection in a bit of amazement. Wild, golden hair swirled around his face prismatically, catching bits of light and sending them dancing across the room. His head looked on fire.  
  
My god, I'm dead sexy, Harry thought, stunned. He mentally smacked himself. No, Harry, please don't start that again, he told himself stubbornly. Light hands fell on his shoulders and Narcissa's face now appeared beside him in the mirror, her hair falling about her shoulders like water, her face ever-stuck in a beatiful golden microwave. Her features seemed to be sliding around her face as she smiled at him and whispered, "How handsome."  
  
His cheeks brimmed pink and his hair seemed to flash a little. "I--I need my old hair back," he treid to squeak bravely, but she softly shook her head and a burst of energy shot through Harry's veins. The ice pearls that were Narcissa's eyes seemed to melt a little. "Why, because I gave it to you?" Harry nodded. Narcissa sighed. "Harry, you are destined for something. Something...unnatural. Something brilliant, and I wont let you throw away the help of anyone, not if the summit of their actions contributes to you reaching your full potential." She sowly turned him on his bench and kneeled in front of him, staring into his liquid green eyes. She must really care about hair, Harry thought vapidly. "I know you hate us," she said, and for a moment a voice in Harry's head said, "No you don't."  
  
"After all he's done to you...after all of the people he's wounded, those he's killed..." she rose a little and their faces were closer. "Harry, he's doing it for you. With them in your way--"  
  
Something in Harry snapped.  
  
"WITH MY MUM AND VATI IN MY WAY? WHAT SORT OF MOTHER ARE YOU?!" he shrieked, flinging himself backwards, staring up at the woman in shock. She slowly rose from her perch, like a cobra. "Draco killed my husband to save you. To save your friends." Harry only stared. So? "Lord Voldemort killed your parents to save *you*, to save what you could *become*, Harry! Just think!" He was. "If he killed them to save me, then why did he try to kill me?"  
  
"I--" Narcissa stopped, and her mouth dropped open. She paused, thinking. "If he had never tried to kill you...well, he never would have truely known what you could be." Even I can see what bullshit that is, but Harry on the other hand...  
  
Harry winced. That damn voice was back. Ever since the last time he had faced Voldemort, it had been steadily growing, steadily reaching its tenticles into his brain and wrapping them around his thoughts. It was now softly hissing, "You could be the world...you could be the world, Harry, you could own the world...you could be the world."  
  
"Shut up," he seethed, and Narcissa looked suprised.  
  
"Oh, not you," Harry said blaitantly and she very nearly frowned. "My head, it's--" Harry stopped. What was he going on about? But Narcissa was staring at him in a way as if she already knew. "It's him, isn't it," Harry said softly, staring down at the soft carpet. "He's the voice..."  
  
Now Narcissa was looking at him as if he had a toboggin rafting through his lovely hair. "Voice?"   
  
"Yeah."  
  
Narcissa *did* frown this time and knelt in front of him, yet again. She reached up a cool hand and wiped Harry's hair out of his eyes. "Harry...you could be the world..." she whispered, and she looked at him, no, she was looking *into* him...he shifted his gaze down to the floor. There were dragons on it, Harry noticed with a faint twitter of shock, and they were writhing. He told them to stop and they did. He frowned. They were left motionless, just laying on the floor, their sides heaving, gasping, blood was now coming out of their mouths...they weren't dragons anymore. They were people. The voice contorted Harry's muscles into a smile. You could be the world...you could be the world...youcouldbetheworld...youcouldbetheworldyoucouldbetheworldyouaretheworldyouaretheworldyouaretheworld...  
  
Harry looked up, only he wasn't seeing. Narcissa gave out a soft "oh" and stumbled backwards.  
  
"No," he said, only his voice wasn't his own. "I *am* the world."  
  
***  
  
Hermione glowered at the barnwall angrily. That bastard Malfoy. Although Hermione knew they would have still had little chance to escape even *with* Malfoy cooperating, the fact that they had been so close made her nerves crawl with ferocious energy. That slimey, foul, disgusting...to think she had actually found him sincere, when he had been trying to "save" them...but no. This was obviously a trap. Hermione smacked herself guiltily for letting gushy feelings interrupt her brains. It's just that look he had given her...and the kiss...Hermione sat bolt upright. She had compltetely forgotten the kiss until about all of three seconds ago.  
  
Where had that *come* from? Speaking for both of them, she could plainly say that she felt no more for him than he for her, and no more he for her than...well, blatantly Ron for spewing slugs. Or at least, it seemed that way. Hermione nudged her mind gently from the thought of whatever had happened in that hallway and focused on how to escape. Her last "plan" had not gone over too well, and Malfoy and that Jackson were obviously in chahoots. Hermione fiddled with a peice of hay and growled, "Maybe he should just go make out with Jackson, then, if he enjoys frateranizing with the enemy so much."  
  
Now she was sounding like Ron. Hermione winced in gracious amounts of confusion and nearly jumped into the ninth heaven when a hand fell on her shoulder.  
  
"I don't think I fancy Ron much," came a low voice behind her and Hermione spun around to face a grinning Jackson.  
  
"I was telling you to go make out with Malfoy," Hermione snapped, and her eyes widened with horror as she realized what she had just said, and whom she had said it to. But Jackson grinned light-heartedly and said, "No, it seems he much prefers doing that with you."  
  
Hermione blushed deep crimson. "It's not--"  
  
"I know, I know," Jackson said, his face growing serious. "Hormones. Believe me, mine get mixed up all the time," he said, glancing at her sideways. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as she realized that his expression mirrored that of someone she knew very, very well. Or someone she used to. She frowned slightly and turned herself, hay crackling noisily under her, so she was directly facing Jackson.  
  
"Why's that?" she asked curiously. "Certainly you're a bit old--"  
  
Jackson nodded. "Most of the time, yes I am. But when I'm a wolf, everything changes a little." Jackson watched the girl closely to see her reaction to his statement but she seemed unfazed. In fact, she actually seemed to relax a little, and the expression of bewilderment, confusion and fright was replaced immediatly with excitement.  
  
"Oh, yes, I've read about that," she said, leaning forward eagerly, now staring him straight in the eye. "The canine form of the warewolf is always a bit younger than that of the human side, and they say--" her eyes were now shining gleefully, as if nothing excited her more than shredding her vast expanse of knowledge into tiny little papers and passing them out to unsuspecting bystanders.  
  
Jackson leaned back a little, intruiged. So she had already figured out that he was a warewolf. Smart one, this girl. With aged amusement Jackson remembered her escape attempt only moments before, and his respect for her deepened. Full of surprises, this one...  
  
Hermione talked on.  
  
Ron and Draco stared at the two who were now happily chatting with obvious contempt.  
  
"Does she *not* notice he's a hitman?" Ron sputtered to the air incredulously.  
  
"Oh come now, Weasly," Malfoy sneered, turning to face an angered Ron. "You know you think he's dead sexy."  
  
Ron turned white. "MALFOY I SWEAR--" but Draco was now looking at him directly in the eye.  
  
"Honestly, Weasle, I've seen the way you look at Potter--" Ron was now turning a shade of purple so Malfoy hurried on, "And I want you to know I think you two would be absolutely *darling* together." Ron's face was now contorted angrily as his first punch missed Draco's face by a centimeter.  
  
"WHY YOU--" Ron shrieked in enraged vehemence, and Draco's eyes widened as he realized that he was facing a pshychotic pumpkin with no wand.   
  
Meanwhile, the raised voices attracted the attention of a certain witch and warewolf, and Jackson turned his head to see the two boys at each other's throats, rolling around in the hay, each throwing well-aimed but well-dodged punches and kicks. "You have their wands, right?" Hermione asked skeptically, her eyes following the pair. "Of course," Jackson replied, and out of seemingly no where he pulled a popcorn bag and ripped it open, offering some to Hermione. She smiled and thanked him, digging her hand in and popping the hot kernels into her mouth.  
  
A strangled scream errupted from Malfoy's throat as he bashed his skull into a manic Ron's, who immediatly crumpled to the ground. Draco swaggered on the spot, and fell to his knees.  
  
"Figures he wouldn't realize that'd hurt him too," Hermione said through a mouthful of buttery popcorn.  
  
Jackson sighed yet again and shook his head. "Men."  
  
Oblivious that their spectacle now had a doubly fascinated audience, Draco and Ron pulled themself from the ground and fought on.  
  
And from the shadows, Harry watched.  
  
a/n: i hope you liked it!! thanks for the reviewzies they're making my day. keep up the good work! please ; ). Yeah, so, yeah. more next chappy. the romance is gonna come, so is action, yadda yadda. i know, ive said it already. hah. anyways, much love and peace! 


	10. Waves and Raves

Chapter Ten- Waves and Raves   
  
A/N: Wow I am so sorry this took forever. In fact, I'm half expecting no one will be reading it anymore. The thing is, after I read the fifth book I realized there really may be no hope for Draco Malfoy, and my "creative energy" just sort of...evaporated. But then a few days back I actually recieved a comment, and next thing I knew I was off again. So who knows. This chapter unfortunatly is a little long and is nothing special but it is getting me back on my feet. So...hope you enjoy, and have a lovely winter break!  
  
Narcissa awoke to find that her head felt like the location of an elephant's orgy. The sides of her brain seemed to crash mercilessly with her skull, and at first all she could do was lie on the floor with her arms still pinned protectively over her head. Slowly shifting her weight from her hips to her back, she turned and faced the mirrored dresser that, only moments before, she and Harry had been staring into together.  
  
Only, the stare that met her gaze as she puller herself forward to look into the reflection was blank. With all of her cells aching, she held a pale, moonlight brewed hand up to the mirror. Her reflection copied her motion, only with a detatched sadness that Narcissa couldn't comprehend.  
  
*Where was she?*  
  
There was a faint familiarity about this bedroom, she decided firmly, only she didn't remember ever having been in it. In fact, she did not remember ever having been anywhere....  
  
I am Narcissa...but Narcissa who? She looked around the room, curious more than fearful, noting with satisfaction the room's all around decor and feel of persecution. She shivered pleasantly, and felt somehow...welcome. Only then her eyes drifted to the corner of the room and she let out a small gasp. Shattered glass covered the floor and it looked as if something had been knocked over. Then from the depths of confusion, Narcissa realized that she had not woken in a bed but at the foot of one, that there was deffinatly more to this place than met the eye, and that she was quite possibly in enclosing danger.  
  
Her contemplations were immediatly interupted, however, when a meek knock on the door cut through the silence like a dull knife through swiss. Narcissa jumped a little before finding her voice and answering, "Come in."  
  
A small, strange looking creature that Narcissa somehow knew was a house elf squeaked, "Stumpy heard noises, Mistress Malfoy!" Narcissa watched with fascination as the little thing goggled at the spilled vase and turned watery eyes up towards her. "Is the Mistress hurt?" Narcissa was taken aback. Was this thing talking to *her*? Mistress...what was it, Malfoy...the name sounded oddly familiar...she stared into space as the little elfish thing repaired the vase with a flourish of its hand...  
  
Then the door opened again, and as the newcomer entered, Narcissa's scream could be heard throughout the entire Malfoy Manor....  
  
***  
  
Draco snored softly as the world passed by over his head. Hermione was asleep a few feet away from him, tossing around on the slightly prickly hay, every now and again deepening a bruise on Ron's expressionless face with her flailing arms. Jackson perched uniformally on another stack of hay a meter or so off, chewing on an end of straw while thinking sullenly about the looming fate of the children.  
  
Jackson had never had a problem with becoming close to his victims. It had never really bothered him, killing a close friend, an aunt, a grandfather. He had been trained well, and in order to fufil a job, he had always been able to separate his conscience from his work with deft accuracy. However, there was more to these children than there had ever been with any other of his subjects. Although they regarded him with respect and reasonable amounts of fear, they had already molded around his existance as if they had always been under the captivity of a gay warewolf hitman.  
  
Jackson shifted a bit of weight off his rear end and scratched his ear. Perhaps that was what was so strange about these young'ns...they had been able to read him so quickly but still felt it their duty to treat him respectably...  
  
Draco turned onto his side and reached his arm into the air, bringing it down a hair away from Hermione's now still hand. Jackson grinned a little. Those two had it coming, although he was sure they hadn't realized it yet. Hermione moaned a little, and began to shiver. A nightmare, it seemed to be. Draco's eyelids fluttered open, and he slowly turned his face so that he was watching her. His expression was hidden in the shadows, but Jackson did not need to see it to know what it was saying. He watched as a still groggy Draco touched her hand for a second, reassuringly, then brought it back to his side and once again drifted off.  
  
Jackson scoffed. Like hell they hadn't realized it yet.  
  
***  
  
Harry watched the troop in silence. He was biding his time, carefully manipulating the silence and squeezing it into the ears of his victims. He watched as his former two best friends slept, and noticed with interest as Draco reassured the nightmaring Hermione. He chuckled a little. What more could he expect? Certainly Narcissa had been right, there was no right from wrong. He cast a wary glance towards Jackson, and noticed with a bit of unease that he seemed to sense another presence in the barn. He was throwing looks this way and that from the corners of his eyes, and it was painfully clear that his left arm, which was crossing into the folds of his jacket, was gripping a wand.  
  
Harry shifted his weight and pulled himself further into the darkness. A direct approach would be stupid, he thought to himself fretfully, for although it had not only worked on Narcissa--when she awoke, she would remember no more than her instincts, it had worked on Voldemort--doomed to the same fate, but Harry knew that the only element he had held above their heads was that of suprise, an advantage that had been ripped from him the moment he set foot in the barn.  
  
However, the power that was surging through his veins was more than palpable, and with each descending minute he could feel the urge to rip limbs from bodies growing stronger and wilder. His anger had been crashing through him like waves over the sand, his fury becoming more and more concentrated and accumulative as oceans of memories seemed to ride in like driftwood and debris. And Harry...or whatever this new thing was...knew that all he had to do, was ride this emotion like a surfer, and just bring it in to the mainland.  
  
And then, all of a sudden, the waves stopped. He sat there, watching his friends, and he felt drained...drained of everything. He was a beach and the tide was low, and his anger was evaporating...  
  
And then the process started all over again.  
  
***  
  
Draco stared out into the darkness. Someone else was here--and Hermione's thrashing wasn't helping his ease any. He was almost posative that on some level her nightmares were caused by whatever was in the barn with them...  
  
And then he heard it. A low moan in the rafters. Draco lurched from his spot, stumbling over one of Hermione's rabid legs, she awoke with a start and jolted from her reverie. Draco spun on his heel and put his hand on Hermione's mouth, imploring her not to scream. She nodded, wide eyed, and glanced over at Ron. He was still deep in the blue, and by the looks of it, he was in the middle of a very good dream. She bit back a smile and turned back to Draco, who was tensly leering into the depths of darkness above them.  
  
She found herself considering his profile, it's sharp angles and lack of curves. His cheek and collar were the only part about him that seemed capable of holding a warm thought within, and she found herself drawn to them. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, shaking her head nonsensically to try and fling the idea from her mind, but these thoughts were getting stickier and more stubborn, attaching themselves to the sides of her brain and refusing to let go.   
  
So instead, she settled with focusing on whatever it was that had forced Draco from his sleep and was now making the hairs on the back of his neck stand like soldiers. Her eyes focused tensly, and long moments passed without any movement, sound, or hint therof. She was about to ask what had bothered the boy when she saw something move. Blinking the spots from her tired eyes, she wondered if she had been seeing things, but then she heard it.  
  
"There you go," said a deep voice. "Come on now, that's it."  
  
Hermione immediatly realized the voice as Jackson's, and she reeled in the amazement of forgetting his existance. She saw a tall, lumpy figure glide from the rafters and a small thump accompanied the gentle landing of Jackson's feet to the hay.  
  
"What have you got there, Jackson?" Draco asked curiously, his fluxuated terror now softly abiding from him in gentle gasps.  
  
"Looks like one of our friends is back," he said lightly, dropping whatever it was he was carrying down onto the hay.  
  
"*Harry!*" Hermione shrieked, tearing through the distance between them and dropping to his side, touching the uncounscious boy's shoulder tensly. Ron jerked awake and simultaniously Jackson grabbed Hermione about the waist and jerked her backwards from Harry, and very strangely, Draco felt an anger well up in his chest.  
  
"Don't go near him," Jackson said, warningly. "They've already had a way with him, he's not safe."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Hermione nearly shrieked, and Draco's well suddenly dug deeper into his anger.  
  
"Oi, Jackson, what's wrong with him? His hair..." Ron began thoughtfully but Hermione cut him off. "That is not important," she said in angry frustration.  
  
Only, Ron wasn't looking at Hermione. He was instead staring at Jackson with a peculiar expression wobbling onto his face. Hermione turned and shivered. Jackson was staring down at the boy, down at Harry, and he looked very purturbed.  
  
"I've already taken this too far as it is," he whispered, and suddenly something slipped from his eyes. Not a tear, but a warmth, it seemed. Hermione took a step back. Something was wrong, and she had the feeling that she understood what. Jackson turned to Hermione, Draco, Ron.  
  
"You three," he said. His voice was sad, and Hermione, with a deathgrip on Ron's arm, heard him whisper: "Oh, no..."  
  
Jackson took a step towards them, and then hestitated.  
  
"I'm sure you don't..." he seemed to be struggling for words. Hermione found she couldn't move. "You don't...you wouldn't happen to know the story of Snow White..."  
  
"What in the bloody hell are you talking about?" Ron asked, wild-eyed.  
  
"Her stepmother sent her into the woods, sent an archman to kill her, only he couldn't...he was supposed to bring back her heart." Jackson swallowed. His face was beginning to look pasty, and he begged for his composure to return to him. "The marksman, he couldn't do it. He instead killed a hog and delivered that heart to the evil Queen instead."  
  
Hermione was trembling. She found herself seeking out their savior's eyes, only Draco's did not meet hers--they were narrowly locked on Jackson.  
  
"Well," Jackson swallowed again. He needed a cigarette. "Well, I'm not that marksman. And I'm sorry, but I can't be."  
  
Hermione's heart lept onto her tongue and she started feeling dizzy. She had known he wouldn't turn out for the better, but was it already time? She looked frantically towards Draco and saw with emmense suprise that he was no longer there. Turning fearfully back to Jackson, she realized that he had noticed also--he was looking about wildly, and almost a bit...hopefully....  
  
He couldn't have left them, she thought. She felt as if a buffalo had decided her stomach was a lovely place to lunch and was now ripping her innards from each other like nice, fresh grass. She watched in horror as Jackson's wand rose into the air, now pointed at Ron. She grabbed him by the arm and flung him down behind the stack of hay they were standing on and he landed with an "oomph!" She quickly jumped down beside him and grabbing him by the hair, started dragging him towards the door.  
  
"Hermione, I'm coming! Not the hair!" he whispered in pain. She bit back a smile. Ron and his hair. Harry and his...she stopped dead and turned to Ron. "We've got to get Harry!" she whispered.  
  
Ron nodded and snuck a glance to the lying figure. Only..."Where's--"  
  
And then a wand appeared directly in front of his nose.  
  
"Nice try Weasley." Ron gulped. Jackson sighed and said, "Now, this won't hurt a bit. I'm just relocating--" Hermione frowned. Jackson seemed to have stopped in mid sentence, and was now staring at a spot a bit above their heads. Hermione took a quick glance to see what he was staring at but saw nothing. And then, a moment later, Jackson crashed into the hay beside her. Out cold.  
  
"Stupid man," Draco sneered, landing on the hay.  
  
"How did you...?" Ron asked with grudging amazement.  
  
"The rafters. He was so focused on you he didn't noticed my summoning charm, which, I suppose I must thank Potter for," Draco said smuggly, flicking his wand between his fingers.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione asked, but Draco only shook his head.  
  
"So you knocked him out?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, but we must get a move on."  
  
"Not a good idea," a voice growled. Hermione's stomach plummeted. It was Jackson.  
  
"Not such a good spell!" Ron seethed, terror riding his face like a bull.   
  
And then once again, there was a wand, only now there was a flash of white light, then a flash of blue.  
  
And once again, Hermione and Draco were alone.  
  
* * *   
  
"I could only cover one other person with it," he explained, watching nothing.  
  
Hermione stared at him calmly. His silhouette, a stripe of silver wolf, yet his eyes did not burn with the gold of the moon. They were dead, a flatline where there should be mountains, and she did not know what to say to him. Draco sat on the edge of a stack of hay, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin on his wrists. He stared vacantly into the hay as if it was not there. Hermione felt as if she herself wasn't there.  
  
Harry and Ron, both gone. Jackson turned horribly and then disappeared, and she had no idea what was going on with Voldemort, when he would come for them. And yet all she found herself doing about any of this was stare at her former enemy, Draco Malfoy. She knew there was more to the story than he had told her and yet she realized she wasn't exactly sure she wanted to know what this was. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, then looking through them. She held his gaze, but why, she wasn't sure.  
  
At this point, Hermione wasn't even sure who she was. She was terrified, yet she didn't care about anything except holding this gaze, this contest of fiercness. She had kissed this boy twice, and while the thought was weaving through her brain waves, it was more a fact than a feeling. At the moment everything about this creature was slamming into her, sound waves of confusion, history, events seemingly so far in the past yet accepted as certainty. This truth, this thing that the tiger in front of her had been hiding was now snapping between them. He was telling her the story, and she was telling it back to him, him back to her. They were no longer childhood enemies, Draco was no longer the selfish, sniviling coward he had presented himself as for as long as Hermione had known him. She knew that he was not seeing her as the bookworm mudblood he had taken her for, in fact, they were aknowledging everything they had ever known about the other and were now letting it all go.  
  
They were releasing every memory between them--Buckbeak, Harry, Ron, Crabbe, Goyle, Hogwarts--so many memories flying back and forth between these four eyes--Snape, two very buck teeth, a ferret scurried through their minds, collecting strings of knowledge, tying them into cobwebs and then sweeping them out of the mind. One kiss, two bodies held together, falling out of two minds.  
  
"The way the crow flies," Draco muttered emptily.  
  
"It only flies away," she answered, also drained. 


End file.
